Rants & Reviews

21 August 2016

I Went to Buckingham Palace and All I Got was Annoyed

In the 10 years I lived in London, the only time I was near Buckingham Palace was when we had a Lesbian Avengers demonstration around the big statue installation of Queen Victoria.

In 1992 there was a fire at Windsor Castle (owned by the same family, of course), so in 1993 for the first time they opened the Buckingham State Rooms to mere mortals for a handsome fee (today it is £37.00 / $50.00) to help with the Windsor repairs. (Irrelevant postscript: A half dozen years later I spoke at a European Conference on volunteerism at Windsor Castle. Yes, you may kiss my hand. If you buy me a ring, you can kiss my ring.)

Now they open it to the masses for about two summer months and, as far as I can tell, put the takings towards their significant, inherited art collection. Of course the Queen and those who share her aristocratic DNA are staying at one of their other domiciles during the onslaught, probably Balmoral, Scotland.

There is a great deal of walking involved with this visit, which each year consists of two sections: first there is a special exhibition of some sort, and second is the tour of the State Rooms, that is to say, the rooms people are allowed in anyway, not the family bathroom or kitchen or tv room. The State Rooms are where the Queen meets diplomats and ambassadors and other worthies.

This summer’s special exhibition, Fashioning a Reign, starts off with a four panel Andy Warhol portrait of Queen Elizabeth that is sprinkled with diamond dust. Even though he comes from my hometown, Pittsburgh, I’m not a fan of Warhol, but frankly this portrait is a high point. We are led through endless displays of Elizabeth’s couture, from her christening gown, used by 62 royals before it fell apart and was reproduced for subsequent generations, to all the clothes she wore at this and that coronation, anniversary, national celebration, and bar mitzvah. It is a boxy collection, all monochrome (so that she can be easily found in the crowd), leaving at least one journalist wondering why, with infinite (unearned) wealth, she chose the dowdiest items on the rack. There is also a very extensive line of hats, which, when hung as they were without a head, make for a strangely post-modern tableau.

I rushed past the mesmerized millions of visitors to escape this exhibition. What I really wanted to see were the State rooms. The original building was enlarged by John Nash when King George III bought it. The two of them were Masons, so there are secret man-symbols interwoven in the designs. These rooms are full of the expected domed roofs and gilded everything; the newer wings seem a bit less ornate. Somehow the overall impression is pale, restrained, at least when compared to many of the ornate European palaces.

I did love the chandeliers, in particular the four in the Blue Drawing Room with the doubly high ceiling. But then when you realize that George IV kept 30 people employed just to keep the candles in good order (on, off, changed, etc.), you understand why Queen Victoria converted them to electricity. I hated the Table of the Great Commanders (1806-12), a spindle shaped round-topped thing made entirely of gilded porcelain. Napoleon commissioned it to be decorated with the profile head of Alexander the Great circled by heads of the less worthy commanders and philosophers from ancient days. To name a few of these minor figures: Pericles, Pompey, Augustus, Caesar, and Hannibal.

Here’s what the Royal Collection website has to say about this tribute to testosterone: “The table was the most prestigious and conspicuous present given to George IV by a grateful Louis XVIII, two years after the defeat of Napoleon. So highly did George IV regard this gift, and such was its status in his eyes, that it became part of the ceremonial backdrop for all his state portraits.”

Then we get to the royal gallery – a long expanse made from knocking down the walls of four rooms in a row. These people (I’m trying to be generous to the Royals) own the biggest intact art collection of any of the world’s royals. I could run down the copious invaluable paintings, but one will serve: the exquisite, inviting 1638 portrait of Agatha Bas by Rembrandt (my favorite painter). Why, I ask myself, should this family inherit such a treasure when it should be in a museum that does not cost a soul $50 to see two months of the year? If I weren’t an anarcho-socialist already, I would have been converted quicker than Victoria switched to electric.

Comments

The Windsors do not own Buckingham Palace, nor even Windsor Castle. The Queen does own Balmoral Castle and Sandringham House, neither of which is publicly funded. The art you mention is part of the Royal Collection, "which is held in trust by The Queen as Sovereign for her successors and the nation. It is not owned by her as a private individual." (Royal Collection website)

So, having established that your issues around inheritance, ownership and private wealth are irrelevant, your remaining issue would appear to be around access and cost.

First let us consider that the vast majority of museums in London are entirely free with the exception of special exhibitions. Contrast this with the situation in the USA, or Europe where just about everywhere charges. Secondly, whilst it is possible to access these parts of Buckingham Palace for a short period of the year when they are not used for state functions, the White House and its art collection is scarcely more accessible. Whist tours there are free they must be booked a month in advance through one's senator, or for foreigners, through one's embassy in Washington. Places are strictly limited, and your booking can be cancelled at any time at short notice.

I have to agree with you about the ghastly gilded table though. Just goes to show how tastes change I guess. I suppose Napoleon must have liked it which is odd for someone swept to power on a wave of revolution by a country's poor don't you think?

Wowsie! Let a girl wallow in her emotions please. This treatise ought to have wider exposure. Thanks for it all! And for the unity ending, especially. (Just a small point: The USA sucks. The cost of museums in my own town keeps me out of them - except when I order a library pass well ahead of time. There's no competition between the countries. Many things there are worse; many things here are.) Love ya

I did this tour with Mother a couple of years ago (the frocks that time were from the coronation), and suffered similar qualms. What made it all worthwhile for me was seeing the Artemisia Gentileschi self-portrait.

I lived in the UK from 1973-74 as a reporter in East Anglia. I was regularly and firmly chastized (notice the British spelling) for making light of the royal fam. It was OK for them to take the mickey, but not moi. They even made me sit in front of a telly to then write a piece about one 'Yank's' impression of the wedding of Princess Anne. Boring, mostly. Still, my year in Colchester was great and I even had a 10-year old Mini Cooper before they were chic. It drove like a little red anchovie can. Cheers!